


I'll feel desire, desire/ I'll bloom in the fire

by forever_nerd



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Masturbation in Shower, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Wings, sexy times in the decker household
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_nerd/pseuds/forever_nerd
Summary: .....And she can never have enough of her Devil. It has been three days since they spent the night together and Chloe is already aching and frustrated beyond measure. ...
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 14
Kudos: 244





	I'll feel desire, desire/ I'll bloom in the fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arlome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/gifts).



> So, nothing more than unrepentant smut! This corona virus quarantine will make a prolific writer out of me!  
> There is a reference in this story that pays homage to one of my favourite Fuckruary stories.  
> You will know which-trust me!  
> A big thanks to @venividivictorious for the wonderful betaing skills!  
> Fuckruary prompts: masturbation, wings  
> Comments are more than welcome!  
> (For Arlome, my almost birthday twin and personality clone!)
> 
> Um, enjoy?

She is so tired. That crick in her neck has been bugging her all day but now the ache is insufferable. She is just glad this week is finally over. Their last case dragged on for ten days which is odd for them. After Lucifer’s return her closing rate has become more than satisfying (again). It is downright impressive.

So is the change in her life. Being with Lucifer is better than she could ever have imagined and after months of misery and heartache, Chloe feels like she has finally gotten her chance at happiness. And she can never have enough of her Devil. It has been three days since they spent the night together and Chloe is already aching and frustrated beyond measure. She makes a slow circular motion with her neck, trying to relieve the aching muscles, and hears the resulting _crack_ in her muscles and bones.

“That’s it,” she announces, frustrated. Both Maze and Trix turn to look at her. “I really need a hot shower. My neck is killing me.”

“Well, go on Decker. I’m sure there’s plenty of hot water left.”

“Um, we’re expecting the pizza delivery guy and—“

“Lucifer,” both chime in with equally sneaky smiles.

“We know Mom! Go on and have your bath. I’ll save you the best slices,” Trixie promises with a kiss on her cheek and nudges her off the sofa.

“Okay, babe. I’m off.”

She gathers her hair on top of her head and discards all her clothes in the hamper. Once in her shower, Chloe turns the temperature dial as hot as she can stand and positions herself in such a way so that the water hits her directly on her aching muscles. Her hands rub soothing circles on her shoulder blades and she wishes that Lucifer were here to give her a good back rub. She needs one desperately.

But thinking about Lucifer in the shower is not very conducive to staying focused on her task. Since his return they have done all manner of delightful things in _his_ shower that it is impossible not to feel aroused just at the sight of one.

Even so, her mind reaches for something that is not even an actual memory.

She thinks of that dream, the one that had taken place in her scrubby shower and immediately heat pools low in her belly. It doesn’t take much effort lately; just three days without devil-induced orgasms and she is desperate for him. When her hands skate over her breasts, the feeling is so electric that she doesn’t want to stop. She thinks of him kissing her until she was breathless and she starts panting. She remembers his kisses slowly descending and her fingers caress velvety skin. She has barely started but it feels _so_ good. And now, now she doesn’t have to rely on her imagination about what his kisses might feel like. Now, she _knows._ She knows that nothing has ever felt more arousing, more pleasurable, more perfect than his lips on her skin. From feather light kisses on sensitive skin to demanding suckling on swollen flesh, she knows that nothing will ever feel as good as her Devil.

So, when her fingers start moving through her folds it’s his smart mouth that she thinks of and him on his knees before her, coaxing her to her orgasm. It doesn’t take long. When she thinks how his eyes had flashed red she comes with a soft groan, muscles trembling, the hot water caressing her skin. She leans on the shower wall, blissfully exhausted, and after a few steadying breaths, turns off the water and walks out the shower.

She almost screams at the sight of him, tall and imposing in the small bathroom, effectively shutting the only way out, his hand wrapped around his very aroused cock.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she chastises breathless, water dripping slowly down her body. His eyes seem unable to decide where to focus, jumping from one point to the other, chasing the little droplets as they glide down her skin, lower and lower. He says nothing, his face serious and just keeps staring at her, his hand caressing his erection sinfully slow.

“Well, aren’t you going to say anything?” she asks, waiting for his apology and just now realizing that he just saw and heard her… _masturbating_. Her cheeks suddenly feel too hot.

“Oh Detective, you couldn’t be more right,” he agrees. “Please allow me to rectify,” he says and starts to slowly clap, his lips stretching into a devilish smile.

“That was _by far_ , the best live performance I have watched in years. I was enraptured!” he compliments, his hand back to stroking his erection.

Her eyes narrow and she is ready to tell him off, but _surprise, surprise_ there are other things she would rather do.

He is all lean lines and hard muscle under that shirt and pants and she wants to kiss every single inch of him. She steps closer, all wet, water droplets clinging to his bespoke ensemble, which she absolutely adores, and kisses him under his jaw.

“Well, I’ve missed you,” she whines softly in his ear, hoping she sounds sexy. Or seductive. Either will do.

She can feel his adam’s apple bob and his voice when it comes is deep and perfect as always, but slightly trembling too.

“And I you, love,” he whispers and his hands glide up her ribs to cup her breasts. His hands squeeze softly, fingers leaving feather light touches on her nipples. She moans brokenly, starving for his touch, and pushes closer to him, her lips kissing his neck and his collarbones (it’s harder to reach any higher) while her hand reaches for his cock.

“I want you,” she confesses, as she does almost every day.

“I want you too Chloe,” he reassures her, his hands going to her buttocks, squeezing, “but that blasted demon and the spawn are downstairs and I thought—“

“I really, really want you,” she insists, emphasizing each syllable with a stroke on his cock.

“Bloody hell woman! You are so confusing,” he complains, his fingers reaching for softer flesh. When he finds her wet and wanting he groans loudly and lifts her up by her bottom, lips soft but oh so demanding.

His kisses are always infuriatingly good, pulling her into him, making her forget everything around her, except perhaps how good those kisses would feel on other parts of her body.

“Do I have to beg?” she asks once he pulls away and he laughs, a small, dark sound that makes her shiver and stokes the heat inside her.

“No darling… but then again, you sound _so lovely_ when you beg,” he whispers in her ear and she could come just by his voice and his damn words.

“Please, Lucifer, please fuck me,” she tells him and at her words, he closes his eyes, his expression almost pained. She kisses the soft skin under his eyes. When he looks at her again, his eyes are dark but they might as well be burning for the fire she sees in them.

“Will you be a good girl and be quiet now?” he whispers at the corner of her mouth before kissing her. “I am certain you don’t want your offspring to hear you.”

He is right, _of course_ he is, but she can’t think straight with this _hunger_ taking over.

“Help me out?” she begs again, and his eyes shine with mirth.

“Oh darling, you need only ask!”

He looks around the bathroom, his eyes searching- for what she doesn’t know. She knows he has found it though when a big smile stretches on those beautiful lips. His hand reaches for the pile of clothes she has lain on the other side of the sink. He brings her very utilitarian, target polka dot panties, to her face.

“Open up now. Nice and wide,” he is trying to stay serious but his excitement gives him away. He is absolutely giddy. She opens her mouth and in the panties go.

Well, she asked for it. _Begged,_ to be more accurate.

“You be a good girl and keep those knickers there now, yes darling?” he instructs and she merely nods, hornier than she could ever imagine. Then down on his knees the devil goes and her dream takes on flesh in her small bathroom. He kisses and licks her swollen flesh hungrily, his groans sending vibrations into her and his fingers tease her entrance and all she can do is bite the stupid underwear and pull him closer by the hair. Her orgasm, when it hits her, is sudden and overwhelming and her knees give out. She is so grateful for that damned underwear. He catches her- of course he does, because he always _knows_.

“How was that love?” he asks, kissing her around her lips, his beautiful face wet and his lips swollen. She can only moan in response. That’s all she seems capable of doing. He turns her around then to face the mirror. Her face is flushed and she thinks she looks slightly ridiculous with the panties stuffed in her mouth, but his face tells another story. He is equally flushed and breathing heavily and his eyes, they may be brown but oh how they are burning!

“You look so fucking hot, Chloe,” he whispers brokenly in her ear, and pulls her hair free from her bun.

“Hold on now,” he instructs placing her hands on the sink, “and be quiet,” he says, voice stern, almost a command and more heat pools in her belly. She hears the tell-tale sound of his zipper and then she can feel him, hot and hard between her butt cheeks and she arches her back, wanton and begging for more. He pushes inside her slowly, so slowly and she wants more. _Always more._ She pushes back suddenly and he bottoms out and it feels so _good_ to finally have him inside her. It must be the same for him, judging by the pained groan that leaves those sinful lips.

“Such a naughty, naughty girl,” he whispers, every word punctuated by a thrust. She moans, but it comes out muffled thanks to her improvised gag. He starts out with slow, long thrusts, his hands running over her body, pinching, caressing, and it’s not long before his movements become faster and more desperate. She is lost in a sea of sensation, her constant moaning absorbed by the dotted fabric in her mouth. Then he pulls her by the hair to him, and it’s just shy of painful, just enough to excite her even more. He locks his eyes with hers in the mirror and they are fire incarnate, burning with the same heat that set the stars alight at the beginning of time. She is but a newborn star in his arms, lighting up by the heat in his eyes.

“Were you thinking of my lips and my cock when your fingers fucked my sweet cunt?”

She can only moan and nod brokenly.

“I bet you have one more for me love,” he tells her with those eyes burning in hers and it takes but a touch of his fingers on her clit and she’s shaking, her entire body trembling with the force of her orgasm. His hands take all of her weight and she can hear him, almost ready to fall over the edge. She opens her eyes again and looks at him in the mirror; at this creature that was molded in heaven and forged in hell that is now hers.

He is otherworldly in his beauty- the sharp lines of his face, the dark stubble covering his cheeks, the depth of his eyes ( no matter the color they hold) and finally that pained look of pleasure on his face as he- silently- reaches his peak. He pulls her closer to his body and she takes advantage of her now free hands to pull out the panties.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you,” and it’s a promise made to be kept forever. She draws herself closer to him as she turns around in his arms and runs her fingers over his shoulder blades as she kisses him hungrily. She misses the soft whoosh but it’s impossible to miss the sound his right wing makes as it tears down part of the shower door.

“Bloody things,” Lucifer whispers exasperated against her lips.

And they can both hear Maze shout from the living room,

“Hey! Don’t tear the freaking house down you little hornballs!”

They burst out laughing and he kisses her again and again and again and whispers against her lips,

“I love you.”

Heaven, she thinks, could never hold a candle to the brilliance that is her lover, her best friend, her partner, Lucifer Morningstar.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Carol Ann Duffy's poem "Betrothal"  
> It's a long poem but the stanza goes like this:
> 
> I'll feel desire,desire  
> I'll bloom in the fire  
> I'll blush like a baby  
> Make me your lady


End file.
